First Afternoon
The bathroom steams, clouds of billowing heat rising from behind the plastic curtain. Behind that, too, an orange-streaked blur stands, moving sluggishly in the high-pressure spray of heated water. Mixed with the steam is the heavy scent of musk swirling around with the mist. Beyond the blur of the curtain, a tiger washes away the last of the stickiness from his fur.
He takes in a deep inhale, holding the heated steam in his lungs before sliding his paws down from his neck, over his chest and abs to his hips, relishing the sensation of the of the water as it poured over him. He kept his stance wide, paws pressing against the inside edges of the tub, not only for stability, but to also allow his maleness room.
He had awoken earlier, covered in the drying remains of his own fluids. The flood had largely drained away, but the evidence was obvious and prevalent, coating the entire room from ceiling to floor. His own self was not without its own remnants of that morning's occurrence as his maleness was not left unmarked. While not as large as the tremendous proportions it had reached at the height of his need, the feline balls still rested on the floor, each the size of a bowling ball, and nearly as heavy. The central bit was equally swollen, having kept its proportions with its twin partners.
He had, of course, explored himself just a bit, still not quite believing that what had happened was real. But it did not last long as the tiger's instinctual feline need for fastidiousness soon took over and the cleanup began. He had spend the better part of the afternoon cleaning the indescribable mess that his lust-ridden actions had created. He had struggled, only able to do a token clean-up before his enlarged state started to wear on him and he decided it better to shower.
The tiger sighs, paws resting on the shelf of his enlarged sheath, closing his eyes as he feels the sensation of the weighty orbs squeezing between his legs, swinging a bit as the water streams over them. A groan escapes his lips as the mere thought of their size makes them swell anew, the pair squeezing more tightly between his knees.
He quickly scatters his thoughts, shaking his head and bringing his mind back to the task at hand. A few minutes later, he finishes with the shower and yanks the curtain open. The fresh towels are grabbed and his fur is tokenly dried. Another groan escapes his lips as he shifts his equipment around to get the towel secured around his waist. A whimper follows as the large package starts to swell again, encouraged by the tugging and pulling of thick terrycloth. Without any other option, he wraps the towel around his waist with the part in front with his plumped package thrusting out into the open air.
A frown creases his face, the overhung vision frowning back in the streaked glass. A moment later, he grins, turning himself about and posing. The towel is pulled away and he looks at himself sideways in the clearing mirror, watching how his balls roll over his thighs and the contours of his outline as he appraises himself from different angles. He blushes hotly after a fashion and his awakening sheath warns him that his fun should soon be cut short once more.
He wraps the towel around his waist once more, taking another to wrap this one over the front, parting in the back so that he will end up totally covered. He rests his paws on his barely-controlled maleness and sidles out of the bathroom, taking care in his movements as he steps out from the hallway. He manages his trek slowly, grunting and lurching as he acclimates to trying a longer-distance walk with his new center of balance, bracing himself against the wall as he makes his way from the bathroom door towards the more open space of the small living area of his modest apartment. With great effort he releases the wall and spreads his legs to waddle towards the couch, turning himself around and easing himself carefully onto the edge of the cushions. His balls shift between his legs, sliding behind his thighs and thumping heavily on the ground behind his calves, causing him to grimace at the new sensation. The grimace curls into a smirk as he again relishes his newfound size, briefly thankful for both it being the weekend as well as not having a roommate to worry about.
Automatically, he reaches for the television remote, pointing it forwards and flicking on the picture box with a light tap of his claw. He flips distractedly through the channels, not really watching as his mind remains on his new changes and, more specifically, what could have caused them. It's not long before the remote is abandoned on the armrest and the tiger's paws almost instinctively reach for his new-grown nethers.
Tentatively, he rests his paws on the toweled mound before him. His motions are still wary and he keeps his hands steady as if trying to not wake a sleeping beast. After another moment he relaxes and starts to lean back, shivering slightly as he feels the pull on his sac as his balls remain comfortably on the floor below. His breathing deepens, trying to keep his nerves steady as he then pulls the second towel away, exposing himself to the open air once more. With his mind keeping his ambitions steady, he rubs lightly over the roll of sheath as well as the heavy sac below. The fur still felt the same. Not bigger or courser, the same: soft, downy, thick. He leans forward slightly as he focuses his eyes on the organs in front of him, sliding his paws in slow circles over their surface exploratively. The sensations are odd, but erotic, alien but familiar, almost as if he were always this way, this large. Once again he grins, but this time it doesn't last as his arms suddenly jump, muscles tensing in a jerk.
The tiger automatically looks over himself. Was there something wrong? He gasps sharply as his muscles jump again, spasming almost entirely from head to toe, heating and warming and sending the remote clattering to the floor as his arms snap. Frowning worriedly now, he tries to bring his arms together to feel over the quivering muscles only for another spasm to rush through, tensing his body and squeezing his muscles which now visibly swell larger.
His eyes widen. He was growing again. A wince creases his face as he finds this new sensation just as difficult to control as the first one that morning. He grunts, trying to force himself to his feet, managing to get halfway up before he's sent crashing down once again in another spasm and swell of his tightening physique. Another spasm follows almost immediately after just as another series of near-shouted words pour from the television. Momentarily pulled from the increasingly urgent issue, he glances to the box briefly before doing a double-take. There was nothing but arms, legs, abs, pecs, bulk... all flexing... swelling... squeezing...
"It couldn't be...." The tiger hisses in a sharp breath as one of those irritatingly loud-voiced infomercials pitched out a generic home-gym product. But indeed it is as no sooner are those words emitted from the box than are they echoed by the tiger's own body. The tiger hadn't even been paying attention to the television, but it mattered little as it was obvious that his body gave the fake voice it's full heed. He grunts, struggling to move, sit up, stand as each moment his body would swell larger, bigger, stronger.
The remote. There would be no way for him to reach the TV with his swelling body, expanding in jerks as the announcer pitched out each and every feature of his home-gym system. He lurches to the side, grunting as he tries to not only move his new bulk, but also shift his maleness which now threatens to awaken with the unignorable sensations coming from his increasingly stimulated musculature.
"Stronger legs!" The tiger grunts as his legs shift, squeezing his balls and pulling him back as he tries to reach awkwardly over the arm to the remote scattered across the floor.
"Stronger abs! Wider chest!" Again the tiger grunts as his body curls with the sudden tightening of his stomach, arms curling in reflexively only to be pushed outwards again with a massive swell of his pecs, making his paw overshoot the remote as he strains to reach it.
"Almost..." he hisses, claw scraping the corner of the little box, tipping it up onto its side.
"Bigger arms!" He growls loudly as his arms bulge outwards, the swell of his guns jerking his arm once again and sending the remote sliding a couple more inches away. He chances another look to the television, seeing another repeat of the pitch as infomercials are prone to doing.
Wincing to himself, he gives one more lurch sideways, managing to grab the buttoned box in his paw sloppily, the plastic snapping loudly with the force of his unknown strength. Ignoring that for now, he pulls the remote up with a grunt, his pulsing muscles swelling larger and larger as the blaring pitch continues from the idiot box. He manages to get the buttons facing properly before giving a great grunt of effort as he tries to bend his arms in.
"Can't see..." he pants heavily as he struggles to view anything beyond his increasingly shelf-like chest, much less the remote. Just as he manages to twist his arm enough to bring the tiny rectangle into view, than a surging pillar of reddish pink juts upwards between the massive pectorals. Grunting in frustration, the tiger strains now against the building pressure in his loins as well as the uncontrollable swelling of the rest of his body.
With no hope of sight assisting him, his fingers start jabbing awkwardly into the remote, each frenzied push creating another snap in the flimsy plastic. As his panic reaches its peak, he manages to locate the power button, smashing his thumb down on it desperately. Nothing. His panic heightens and he jabs again. Nothing. Still his body swells, following the urges of the salesman's voice. In one last attempt, he smashes the button down again and the television finally flicks into silence with a sick crunch of plastic and circuit board.
He heaves a sigh of relief between heavy pants as blessed silence fills the room. His relief is only temporary as his massive shaft, now towering over his head throbs with need, refusing to be ignored again. The helplessly aroused tiger whimpers, staring at the pulsing tip as it starts to sputter then gush out white slickness. Immediately, his paws drop the remote and reach for the giant groinal pole that seems to throb larger with each heartbeat.
In a desperation no less urgent than before, he starts to pump his needy length with both paws, each one only barely able to reach as his arms and chest fight each other for room. In the back of his mind, he knew he could not wait unless he wanted a repeat of that morning's incident. Panting hard, mouth agape, he starts to rub and hug the pulsating mass against his chest, slicking up his paws and letting the gush of fluid flow over him in liberal streams.
Faster now, he tries to build his arousal to that breaking point, reaching as far as he can both upwards and downwards, yet not even able to cover half his length with the terrible restriction in his movement. Already he felt the growth in his loins and his paws worked themselves harder to keep that urge building, legs now curling and rubbing over the swelling balls behind his knees.
The pressure deep in his groin builds, forcing the tiger to curl on the creaking couch. Tighter and tighter it squeezes, his edge approaching rapidly, though still unable to release. Faster he pumps, squeezing in with his knees now as he fights to release. He had to release. Now.
Then with a sudden reverse in his tension he arches his back and roars, his furious work paying off in one instant. Gallons of seed blast through his shaft spraying the wall behind him with thick ropes of feline essence. Gush after gush rushes through the strained shaft as his balls try to empty all at once, keeping the pressure powerful and unabating, no less intense than the equally impossible event that morning. A full minute passes before the tiger's release finally starts to wind down, a growing puddle of sticky-slick fluid spreading rapidly over the floor.
Panting hard and covered again with musky whiteness, the tiger collapses back on the soaked couch, letting the quivering pole sag down atop him, softening over his chest and shoulder to rest its head beside his own. Again, just like before, the tiger's eyes close and that overwhelming feeling of an indescribable afterglow sets in, lulling the feline back to sleep.